


Empty Bottles on Empty Tables

by beowulfhero



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beowulfhero/pseuds/beowulfhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Grantaire slept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Bottles on Empty Tables

June 8

E,  
It's been two days since the last time I touched a bottle, and the hangover still hasn't worn off, I'm in some random bed, and can't piece many thoughts together. I won't be at the cafe today.

Apologetically yours,  
R

 

***

 

June 12

E,  
It's been six days since I drank. I found out what happened just after I sent my previous letter. You had the nerve to revolt without me? I'm offended, but then again, I guess that doesn't matter.  
I think. Every day I think about you. If I had just put the damned bottle down. If I had been awake. I think about what would have happened, what might have happened if I was conscious. I had woken up, you were dead, and there was nothing I could do. I know you wouldn't want me to grieve for you, but rather for the revolution, but I'm afraid that's impossible. I miss you too much to care.

Brokenly yours,  
R

 

***

 

June 14

E,  
It's been eight days since I drank. I wish you were still here to see this. Although, if you were here, I probably wouldn't be sober. I always drank to get you to notice me, you know. Even though it made me terribly blue, your attention would always brighten my day. I can't try to drink this away, though. You're too heavy on my mind, and I know that if I go back to the bottle, it will only be worse.

Soberly yours,  
R

 

***

 

June 16

E,  
It's been ten days since I drank. Apparently, the little bitch survived. Not Feuilly, not Bahorel, not even you survived, but stupid, lovestruck Pontmercy managed to get out of that massacre alive. He's very sick though. His forehead is burning up, and only half of the rich doctors are optimistic. Is it bad that I don't want him to survive? He doesn't deserve to. He only fought with you because he thought the girl was gone. Actually, no. He deserves to live. He deserves to live with the thought that his indecision and his apathy killed his friends. He doesn't deserve to be happy.

Angrily yours,  
R

 

***

 

September 4

E,  
It's been ninety days. I have no idea what to do. I can't go down to the cafe alone. I tried living, and being normal, but I never got into the swing of life. I've been doing almost nothing since June. It's as though I've lost my head. I have no reasoning nor motivation to do anything. I'm just not sure what's going to happen anymore.

Confusedly yours,  
R

 

***

 

Dec 23

E,  
It's been two hundred days. Pontmercy has fully recovered, and is feeling the guilt, as he well should. I saw him crying around in the cafe the other day. I didn't speak to him. I hope your Christmas will be nice.

Simply yours,  
R

 

***

 

Feb 16

E,  
It's been two-hundred fifty-two days. Pontmercy got married today. They looked happy. I'm still not. Why am I alone? There is nobody who would want to make time for me. I have a hole in me. It's aching for something, someone to fill it. Anyone, really. I'm so alone now. Not even Pontmercy has it this bad. There is nobody anymore who has any idea what this is like. At least Marius has love. Damn love. I wish I had more of it, any of it. I wish it existed for me. I know that can never happen.

Sadly yours,  
R

 

***

 

Feb 17

E,  
It's been zero days. I'm sorry.

Disappointingly yours,  
R

 

***

 

Feb 18

E,  
You once said that our lives didn't count. That leaving this world was didn't matter if we won. But we didn't win, E, and you still matter to me.

I miss you. Come back.

Perpetually yours,  
R

 

***

 

June 6

E,  
Do you know what today is? I wish I didn't. Today one year ago, you and so many of the others I knew, died while I was passed out. I still haven't made new friends, and I don't talk to Pontmercy anymore. I don't think anyone could replace any of those who perished three hundred sixty-five days ago. Three hundred sixty-five days. Three hundred sixy-five damned days that I didn't have anybody. I was sober for most of it, you know. It didn't really help. No matter what my life has been filled with boredom and sadness. I can not bear it. I even tried praying, I was that desperate for answers. That didn't help either, but I think I found the only answer that makes any sense to me. I know it's frowned upon, but I ask for forgiveness. Even if you do not permit it, I will see you soon.

Yours,  
R

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely Meghan, who let me throw words at her.
> 
> *Rereads many months later* I realize that the characterization of R is rather disproportionately focused on his depression. I do think it would have been magnified extremely, were he to survive the revolution. But I don't think he would commit suicide, or if he did, think of it as killing himself. I think that were he to die at his own hands it would be of neglect and/or recklessness and not explicitly intentional.


End file.
